Who We Were

The softness of morning

 was but a dim hue, 

as if it were light 

borrowed from yesterday.

 Her and I moved about

 like tired phantoms

 We wrestled among the shadows

 Cast in black by those giant trees. 

I grabbed their needles in my hand, 

And carried them 

The palened bundle still wet from night

 Into the tent and into the stove

 But it just smoked

and went out.

 So I went out for more.